


McCrimmon's Lament

by Eggling



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, M/M, a bit shippy in places but not really enough to warrant being put in the tag I don't think, missing scene from the end of On a Pedestal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 05:58:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9870446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggling/pseuds/Eggling
Summary: Jamie copes with the aftermath of meeting one of his heroes.





	

They stood together in silence for a moment, listening to the final strains of the lament die away. At length, Victoria turned to the Doctor, her eyes wide and full of sadness.

“Shouldn’t you go and talk to him?” she suggested gently. The Doctor continued frowning at the console for a moment, then seemed to awaken from whatever trance his thoughts had placed him in.

“Hm? Oh, yes, I should,” he murmured. “Will you be alright, my dear?”

Victoria nodded – her tears betrayed her grief, but the Doctor was confident that she could cope without him for a little while. She was a brave girl, he reflected as he started off into the TARDIS’ maze of corridors, and a sensible one. What he was unsure of, however, was how well Jamie would deal with their latest adventure.

Reaching their bedroom door, the Doctor paused for a moment to collect himself, sighing heavily and tugging at his sleeves, before knocking on the door. Even with his superior hearing, he almost missed Jamie’s quiet, reluctant “come in”, which he frowned at. Jamie retreating into solitude was bad enough, but this resigned quiet was worse. He entered the room to find Jamie seated on the bed, head bowed, hands clasped tightly in his lap, his new pipes discarded behind him. The Doctor stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, pressing his own hands together anxiously, unsure of what to say. What comfort could he offer now? The laws of time were harsh, unforgiving, uncaring of affections or the feelings of any mortal beings. Or more or less immortal beings, he thought to himself bitterly.

“Are you alright, Jamie?” he asked at last. The inadequacy of the statement only seemed to prolong the silence between them, however, and Jamie did not even raise his head to meet his eyes. The Doctor simply remained where he was, waiting for Jamie to be ready to speak, waiting for the waves of his sadness and guilt to break.

“Have we just sentenced a man tae death?” came the reply after some minutes. Jamie still did not look up, staring at the floor as he spoke. “That’s no’ what we do, Doctor. We save people, we help them win. Why couldn’t we have helped him? Why is that different from helping anyone else?” His last words were hurled at the Doctor with great venom, making him flinch.

“Oh, Jamie, we can’t always save everyone,” he said quietly. “There was nothing we could have done.” He stepped closer hesitantly, as if approaching a wounded animal. “History sentenced William Wallace to death, not us. You knew how it had to end. In fact, I think you’d known that all your life. It’s history to you, and we can’t change that.” Reaching Jamie, he tugged on the shoulders of his shirt, and Jamie allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, wrapping his arms around the Doctor’s waist almost automatically.

“It’s alright,” the Doctor murmured soothingly. “It’s not as easy as when you’re just hearing the story, is it?”

Jamie shook his head, nuzzling further into the Doctor’s neck as he did so, seeking all the comfort he could get. His eyes were dry, but the Doctor could sense his pain as clearly as if his coat was wet with tears.

“I know we couldnae have saved him, but he was a good man, for all he did. I see that now. He didnae deserve to die like that.”

“Does anyone?” Jamie stiffened, and the Doctor did not have to see his face to know his expression, to know that he was thinking of Culloden. Of the hundreds who had been slaughtered in cold blood for the mere crime of fighting for their prince and for their freedom, of the man who had given the order and those who had carried it out. “We all fight for a cause, Jamie. Some people die for theirs. And Wallace believed enough in his cause to die for it.”

“Aye, but that doesnae mean -”

“But if his story is still remembered hundreds of years later, then his sacrifice meant something. Which do you think the man we met would have wanted – to bow down and be a slave, or die for the country and the people he loved? It was his decision, and we couldn’t have changed it, even if history had been so kind.”

Jamie was silent for a long time, and the Doctor wondered if he had only worsened his pain. “I would have died for my cause, once,” he said at last. “We all would have. But it didnae seem like such a good idea by the end.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you weren’t killed before I had a chance to meet you,” the Doctor said. Jamie drew back and smiled at him, pained but full of affection, pulling the Doctor’s hands away from his waist and lacing their fingers together.

“So am I.”

“Ready to leave?”

“Aye, I think so.”


End file.
